toxic valentines
by 1oooyears
Summary: Sometimes, she'll turn around and expect him to be standing there, waiting. / Klaus doesn't lose things, he merely gives them leash. The same can be said for people.


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**_toxic valentines_**

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With heavy eyes and an open mouth, she sets the glass down and slumps on the counter. It is three and the morning, her bed is cold, and she is in some bar with barely enough income to fix the flickering lights. She fingers a hundred dollar note, before standing, pressing it onto the table, sloppily standing, before somewhat staggering out the exit.

She salutes the non existent crowds before walking away.

Unbeknownst to her, standing, quite ironically, in the shadows, is the person she hates the most, a smirk on his raspberry lips. He gestures to the girl beside him.

"Trail her."

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Laughing, she poses in the mirror, she laughs at her alias, _Alisa Sharapov, and the circus_ she muses _what an interesting place. _She continues to marvel her bedazzled form in the looking glass. _Stunning._

Behind her Aleksander raises the knife and begins to throw, she jumps as one nears her hip. With narrowed eyes she speeds towards him, and with a crack, snaps his neck, and savours what is left of him.

Klaus stops himself before he begins clapping.

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She swallows, a lump forming in her throat, she wants to be anywhere but here, _IwanttobehomeIwanttobehomeIw anttobehome, _after all, love is a place, right? Next to her animal partner (peanut, they call the elephant), she watches as he lifts his hands slowly, mockingly, tauntingly, and he waves. She thinks that for a gut-wrenching, heart-breaking second, she can hear that _thumpthumpthump _of her heart all over again, but what she doesn't miss, is that little part of her that tells her this is how she's going to die.

From the stands, Klaus smirks his signaure smirk, and gestures to the crowd, under his breath, he whispers; "Run, darling, run."

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When the last bell rings and the crowds start to dissipate, he vanishes, and she wonders if he was ever really there.

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She's in this new club and the air reeks of _sex, _and _sweat, _and Katherine runs her fingernails down the wall. She smirks in satisfaction, when it makes a sound similar to that of her victims.

It's too late too run, when she understands her mistake.

His breath is intoxicating against her neck and she shivers in something other than the winter frost. She feels his lips press against her back and hears the slick slide of her zipper being pulled down. _Katerina, _she hears.

This is when she flees.

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Alaric's body smiles in such a sinister manner, that she almost cries, because, without her boys, there really is no hope, _is there?_

_I've caught you, _he sing-songs, and when he bends, she looks at his middle-aged face, and sniffs at his cheap perfume, but there is one thing she does _not _do, something she will _never _do.

She doesn't look at his eyes, she never looks at his eyes, because he may have a different face, and a different voice, and a different scent, but if there is one thing she knows? It is that Klaus' hundred year old soul will always remain reflected in his eyes.

After all, it's what made her fall for him in the first place.

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_Theres a cure, _he tells her one day, _to vampirism, that is, _and he says it so dissuasively that she wants to scream. _I'm sure you could use it, _he lifts a knife, _after all, you always wanted a family, _he begins twirling it, _right? Once upon a time, _he stops twirling, raising the knife in the air, _you wanted that with me._

She spits in his face.

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He grabs her hand and tells her she's beautiful, she raises it to his chest, tells her, _go ahead, _and she _hesitates, _before-

_Pathetic, _he spits, _after all I've taught you, you can barely kill the man who murdered your family, _slaughtered _them, your family would be ashamed. _

She cries. _Why, _she asks him, _why do i have a dead girls face? _She asks him.

He pauses his head resting in the space between her neck and her shoulder, _because, _he peppers kisses along her collar bone, _because you're a killer. _He stands, and walks away, calling out while he does.

_JUST LIKE ME._

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Satisfied, Katherine turns the car, the taxi screeching as she does, pulling into the motel car-park, _Klaus will finally be dead, and I can be done. _She looks up to the sky, _For them._

_run. _Her instincts scream, _RUN._

She turns, and he's there, and he's smiling, and he waves and-

She blinks, and he isn't there, and it isn't him, and it's a girl, and she has wide eyes, and she is alive, and good and, god, _what is wrong with her?_

_-her nightmares have come true._

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It's years after his, _death, _and sometimes, in a still room, she'll turn around and expect him to be standing there, waiting, smiling, waving.

(_The sickest part is that she actually hopes for it, craves that reliability, aches for that attention, because she is Katherine, and she i y.)_

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